Her shoulders lower, tongue coming out to lick her lips. My cock pulses with desire, but none of this is real. For all I know, the need in her eyes is all for show.
“You just told me to do the accounts,” she says, glancing down at the floor at the files scattered all over the carpet.
“I know what I said. I’ve changed my mind. Go home.” I spin around, walking back to my desk.
“Are you firing me?”
Her voice is small, frightened, and I feel like a total piece of shit.
“No. Get some rest and come back tomorrow. I don’t want to find you sleeping on the job again or you’re out.”
The little derisive scoff from behind me is all I hear before the door opens and closes, and she’s gone.
Fuck.
I adjust myself through my pants, a wave of emotion flowing through me that I hardly recognize. I stare at the New York skyline as I fight the overwhelming urge to run after her.
Gray Jones, the CEO of one of the most successful businesses in the city, two seconds from sprinting after an escort and begging her forgiveness.
I scrub at my jaw with the back of my hand, beyond infuriated by the war between my head and my heart.
No. Not my heart. I’m not that stupid.
An obnoxious tune breaks through the haze of anger as I roll my eyes. I only have one person in my contacts who triggers a sound from my cell phone, and that’s my mother. I used to have it that way so that I wouldn’t miss a call from her. Now, it’s so I can screen them and make it easier to ignore her.
I pull it out, staring at her name before I answer the call.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, going to sit behind my desk as the last of my erection fades to nothing.
“What are you doing?” she demands. No preamble. No greeting, just straight to the point. She never used to be like this.
“I’m at work.”
“And does that mean you can’t check your phone? Margaret told me you haven’t even texted Sarah.”
My brow furrows as I try to figure out what the hell she’s talking about.
“Who texted what?” I ask, forgetting who I’m speaking to. There is a long, weighted silence on the other end of the line.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Gray. I won’t stand for it.”
“Mom, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m sorry, I have to be in a meeting in three minutes.”
Has Jax left yet? Maybe I can catch her at the elevator and apologize.
“You have your date with Sarah tonight.”
The beginnings of a headache throb through my skull. “Mom,” I say patiently. “Youjustmet my girlfriend yesterday.”
“Oh, Gray. Don’t play games. She isn’t good enough for you. Not by a long shot. She’s fromIrving!Where did you drag her out from, the sewer? I’m not listening to any more of this nonsense. Sarah is a good choice for you?—”
“Mom, Jax is?—”
“Don’t interrupt. What kind of a name is ‘Jax’ anyway? Sarah’s father is Walter Foxham. He’s a big fish, just like you.”
I remember the name. An incredibly obnoxious man I met at a gala some months before, who had a woman on his arm less than half his age.
“Sarah is from a good family. Wealthy, but not too rich, sensible, intelligent.Educated.”
